For a single minute Johnny Thompson remained behind the closed door; then his fear for his companions drove him forth. Throwing the door wide open, he made a dash for it. Down the companionway and up the hatch he raced at full speed.
The Professor was the first person he came across.
“Where’s Pant?” he gasped. “Natives on board—murderous fellows!”
“Where?”
“There!” A black form appeared on deck. “Dodge!” exclaimed Johnny, setting the example. “They throw knives!”
It seemed, however, that this precaution was unnecessary, for the black man sprang to the gunwale, then leaped overboard. He was followed rapidly by two others.
Pant had heard something of the commotion, and now came hurrying around the corner of a cabin.
“Natives,” explained Johnny. “Bad ones!”
“Better get to the rifles,” breathed Pant. “Can’t tell how many of them.”
He leaped for the rope ladder. In another minute they were rowing rapidly for the “Dust Eater.” As Johnny climbed to the cabin on the plane he looked back. “There they go!” he exclaimed.